


Ian Talks

by orphan_account



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Apologies, Blanket scene, It's what we should've gotten, M/M, canon divergence I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 05:17:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14867351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: I know this is kinda late, but I couldn't get the blanket scene out of my head today.





	Ian Talks

**Author's Note:**

> This is a self-indulgent piece. I can't understand a thing Ian does anymore and I don't like him, so here's me trying to fix him up a little. Enjoy, and pick up some tissues :'(

A minute passes before he feels Mickey take his hand. They’ve been rubbing against each other since laying down, but now Mickey hesitantly slips his slightly cold digits between his. A million things run through his mind. _Fuck, I missed you_. He wants to tell Mickey he missed him too. He wants to make things right between them again. Things haven’t been right in a long time. Probably since that nightmarish day, if you were to look closely. They’ve always been a mess.

But he knows. He knows he’s not gonna do it. He knows he’s gonna leave Mickey yet again. He just knows.

So he says nothing, only giving Mickey’s hand a squeeze. _I’m sorry. I love you. I hate myself for doing this to you. I wish things were different._

It’s another five minutes before Mickey squeezes his hand back. Only it’s not just once. He tightens and loosens his hold a few times until Ian realizes with a start that he’s trembling. Just as he turns to look, another sigh escapes Mickey, much like the one that preceded his _I missed you._

Ian forces himself not to pull his eyes away this time. He can’t be that selfish, at least for tonight. He’s always hated seeing Mickey tear up. The older guy is the strongest person he knows and it’s always killed him when he sees that power source breaking. If Mickey can’t handle shit anymore, then why even try? If the fortress is crumbling then what chance does the outhouse have?

Blinking. Mickey’s blinking. And then he’s not. Then the tears are falling.

He can’t take it anymore. “Mick.”

A breathy gasp. Another sigh. More trembling. “Tell me. Please,” he implores.

Mickey turns to him, brushing away those glistening vestiges of what he considers weakness, his eyes looking anywhere but into green as he finally speaks. “I know you’re not coming with me.”

He pauses, every cell in his body tensing. He wasn’t even sure himself, but now he knows. Mickey’s always known him better than himself. Especially since his world was turned upside down and he forgot who the hell he was in the first place. If Mickey says he’s not going then he’s not.

Before he can get a word out, because it always seems to take him an age to speak these days, Mickey continues, staring intently at their clasped hands. “I’m tired, y’know...” His voice is stronger than before, like this is something he’s been mulling over for a while and is finally getting out. “I’m tired of being alone.”

He freezes again, only this time his heart seems to rebel, pumping faster and harder, twisting painfully, a thousand arrows piercing it. _I’m tired of being alone._ How badly had he hurt Mickey? How badly had he smashed his heart? Was it still repairable? Even if it was, he knows he wouldn’t be able to do it. No matter how much stock Mickey seems to put in him, he knows he’s not the man for the job.

“Mick…” he trails off stupidly, turning onto his side, the better to see the older guy. He can’t run from this anymore, from his mistakes, his faults, his selfishness. Not when Mickey’s like this. “Mickey, I…I need to-“

Now Mickey looks him straight in the eyes and he can see the glassiness in those beautiful orbs. It’s dark out, so their color isn’t as brilliant, but they shine and they’re deep, and they’re just as breathtaking as always. “Do you still love me? Did you ever?” Mickey’s mouth contorts on the ‘ever’, and a couple of drops run down his cheek.

"Do you need to ask?" He questions, chest aching, fingers stiffening.

Mickey stares at him and then nods slowly.

“Always,” he manages, wishing he could do something, anything to stop the hurting. And suddenly, like clouds, fit to bursting, that finally give way, he’s able to talk. “Mickey, always. I know I haven’t…haven’t shown it, but that’s never been the question. I love you. I love you and I always will. I’m not good at it, loving you. Shit, I suck at it and I’m sorry about that. But I do love you and I think about you every day. Every day, all day. It’s like you’re with me, sometimes. And I missed the fuck outta you. And I wish… I wish I knew what to do. I wish things weren’t this way.”

By the time he gets that all out, he’s crying. They’re both crying and he reaches out with his free hand to touch Mickey’s arm, his shoulder, his jaw, his cheek. Their hands are shaking, their tears falling freely now.

“I don’t fucking blame you, you know. I know you finally got your shit together and I know that stuff’s important.”

His heart clenches again, gasping for air. It’s too much. How can one person deal with so much kindness and love? Mickey’s love is an all-encompassing, almost stifling thing. It fills you up, it makes you fight another day. It gives you strength. It keeps your body moving and your heart feeling.

And then, he’s sobbing. He’s never sobbed in front of someone like this. But if anyone deserves to see his raw display of emotion, it’s Mickey. “I’m sorry,” he manages, grabbing Mickey with both hands now, wrapping him up, holding, cradling, trying to love. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry… I’m so fucking sorry. I’ve…I’ve been… You deserve so much better... I wish I was better at loving you.”

They cling to each other, two planks of wood in a tempest, remnants of something once powerful, ripped apart by the indifference of nature and perhaps their own daring.

And when their tears finally subside and they’re just breathing in, Mickey speaks again and shatters his heart into smithereens. “Am I a burden to you?”

He stops. He pulls apart, the mere suggestion making him want to vomit. The thought that this beautiful, broken being in his arms could feel that way. He looks into those gleaming eyes that aren’t quite focused on him.

“I mean… I know I’m not… I ain’t exactly easy to deal with. Y’know, I… I’m a fucking trainwreck sometimes.”

Mickey sounds like he’s apologizing.

He grabs the older boy’s face in his hands. He grasps tightly. He almost screams, the agony of the sentiment hurting more than anything ever has. The torture of knowing he caused most of it. He presses a soft kiss on those pretty lips that he can never taste enough. And when Mickey tries to make it something, he pulls away, refusing to let him numb the pain with _them_.

“Never,” his voice is raspy, but not in the sexy way Mickey once let slip he likes. “Never say that, Mick. Never, you’re not. You’re never.” He’s not making sense, but he hopes Mickey gets it.

And then he’s apologizing again, knowing it can never be enough. “I’m sorry, man. I hate seeing you hurting. And I hate being the cause of it. You should never feel that way, and I’m sorry for every time you did. Every time…every time I made you feel that way. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t know how many times he repeats it before he feels Mickey’s hand patting his cheek.

“S’enough. Stop. I get it, alright. Stop.”

So he stops and he holds Mickey. He kisses him again and again, all over his face, his hands, his shoulders, but nowhere else, because that’s not what this is about. _I’m sorry. I love you. I wish I had the balls to come with you. I’m sorry. I love you…_

He holds him through the night. He doesn’t sleep. He buries his face in Mickey’s neck. He breathes deeply. He steals a few kisses, one to Mickey’s forehead, another to his nose, another to his ear. Worshipping. Loving, he tries to convince himself. And one thought keeps repeating itself throughout the night;

_I wish I was better at loving you._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :D


End file.
